kidnap the Santa Claus
by nicola de lenfent
Summary: Fluff. One-shot. Derek tries to make Braeden like Christmas.


_**Kidnap the Santa Claus**_

"I love Christmas," Derek exclaimed. Braeden had just settled into the couch beside him with a big sigh, declaring how much she hated the holidays. Whereas he had donned a green shirt for the holidays, she was still covered head to toe in black. Derek threw his arm around her, and she settled easily into his embrace.

"Really?" Braeden pursed her lips.

"Really," Derek said. "I grew up in a big family so, you know, lots of presents…"

"Only child."

"So lots of presents."

"Military dad. No extended family nearby…"

"Then there are the holiday movies…"

Braeden scrunched her nose. "Cheesy."

"The carols…"

"Annoying," Braeden sighed dismissively.

"You're such a Scrooge," Derek laughed. He squeezed her shoulder then ran his hand up and down her arm.

"I know," she dragged out the words. "I don't mean to be… It's just not easy being alone for the holidays."

"You're not alone," Derek pointed out.

She pressed her hand over his heart, and paused until he turned his eyes to his.

"I know, I'm not alone. But," she tapped his chest, "when I started tracking Desert Wolf, I didn't have much time for friends, or family get-togethers." She nodded her head as if she were counting, mentally, everything she had lost. "And when I lost my job, I lost the office holiday lunch. And doing my kind of work... you don't really have a… _home_ long enough to hang lights or buy a tree." she frowned up at him and gave a gentle shrug.

"I get it," Derek said. "Wasn't much better for me when my family," he took a deep breath, "passed."

Braeden squeezed his hand. "What did you do?"

Derek barked a short, embarrassed laugh. "Moped around, mostly. Got angry. But by the time Christmas Eve rolled around, I was remembering them. And the good times."

Braeden smiled up at him. Leaning forward, she planted a quick kiss on his jaw.

"Don't get me wrong," she said. "I like being here with you, I just… I'm used to being _busy_, constantly on assignment and the holidays are just _so slow. _ Her fingers tapped against his arm and he had a feeling she was itching to disassemble and reassemble her guns. "Not because there aren't bad guys that need catching, people are just less eager to hunt them down at Christmas time. Which is bizarre, considering…"

"Considering?"

"What a bad mood the holidays put me in," she knocked her knee against his. He settled his free hand on her leg. "It just makes me restless and uneasy."

"Well, I," Derek paused with a pensive nod, "I may have a lead on something."

Braeden stilled all over. She looked up at him, her brown eyes intent on him. "Really?"

"Really," Derek said. He drew out the moment. "I don't know if it's really something you do, though…"

"Depends on the pay," Braeden said, her lip quirking up for a second.

Derek's brows raised. "A million? Kisses?"

She shot him a stern look, and he cleared his throat, and continued: "Well, I'm looking for someone… Been looking for years, really, but I'm starting to think he doesn't exist."

Braeden's gaze was unflinching, their eyes linked by an invisible tether. "I know what that's like. Who is he?"

"He goes by a lot of names," Derek said. "He's mostly known for break and enters."

"In this area?"

"Oh, all around the world." Derek bit the inside of his cheek.

Braeden narrowed her eyes. Her next question was slow: "Description?"

"He wears a lot of red," Derek said before gesturing at his collarbone, "Has a beard about this long. White, sometimes curly."

Braeden bit back a laugh, but couldn't contain her smile. "You want me to kidnap Santa Claus?"

Derek raised a brow, serious as ever. "Are you saying you can't do it?"

"I'm saying," Braeden crossed her arms, "What are you paying?"

"A million," Derek pretended to consider it, "kisses."

…

Derek wasn't lying about remembering his family. He remembered everything that they did together – from the cheesy activities, to the delicious foods, to the holiday favourites. He remembered helping his mother bake cookies. He remembered retrieving the Christmas tree, when he was older, with Peter. He even remembered taking his little sister ice skating and buying her hot chocolate with the last of his allowance.

But now his only family was Braeden.

There was no one else in his life right now he wanted to spend, even a second, of these days with. Not when the ghosts of his family were floating around, hiding nostalgia behind every corner. Not when it was the coldest time of the year, and he knew he could melt that icy, serious façade with a few warm, stealthily placed kisses. Not to mention all the ways she kept him warm. He didn't even mind her cold toes in bed.

Braeden was _it_, Derek knew. And so, he only had one mission: to make Braeden fall in love with the season.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Come on, come on," Derek said, snapping his fingers at his girlfriend.

"Don't snap your fingers at me," Braeden said, extending a finger at him. Her other hand held, outstretched, an ugly, red, oversized Christmas sweater. Derek wore the matching one, in blue.

"You look great in red," Derek said.

Braeden smirked. "Black is more my color."

"Black is not a color."

Braeden rolled her eyes, but her smile spread.

"Okay, I'm in the _holiday uniform_," she walked past him towards the door, letting her hand brush softly against his as she walked by. He grabbed her by the pinky, turned, and followed. "Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

"It's like five days 'til Christmas." Derek waved his arm around the apartment. "And what are we missing?"

Braeden shrugged. "Presents?"

"No, sweetie," he leaned down to press his lips to hers. Then he pulled out a goofy reindeer hat and, thoroughly enjoying her unimpressed expression, pulled it firmly over her head. "A Christmas tree."

"This isn't really my style," Braeden said, pointing at the hat.

"You really pull it off, though," Derek teased. "Think of it as a disguise. You're incognito. No one will know you're really a Grinch."

She punched him lightly in the shoulder. "The things I do for you."

…

"People still get real trees?" Braeden followed him in and out of aisles of Christmas trees, priced to sell so close to the big day. She ran her hands through the branches, surprised at how fresh they still were. Everything around her smelled like pine and she could admit, at least to herself, that it was a lovely scent.

Derek scoffed. "Fake trees are not Christmas trees."

"I had a fake tree growing up," Braeden said.

Derek shook his head. "Explains so much."

She elbowed him lightly in the stomach, and he feigned hurt. Then he grabbed her arm and linked it with his as they strolled.

"So," he said after a long while, "which one do you like?"

"Me?" Braeden blinked up at him. "I'm picking?"

"Yes," Derek said.

"I don't know anything about trees."

"There's not much to know." Derek said. "Whichever one you want."

"Any one?"

"Any."

"Okay," Braeden said. She tapped her chin as she perused her options. There were great big ones, taller than both her and Derek. There were shorter, rounder ones that spread out in perfect cones. But other than that, they all looked the same. Not right. Not _special_ enough. Not _them _enough.

And then she spotted it. The one.

Braeden abandoned Derek's arm and strode towards it. She tilted her head as she examined it, and, with her back to him, grinned when Derek groaned. She chose a tiny tree that barely reached above her knees.

"This one," she said, turning to smile wickedly at him over her shoulder. "I want this one."

"That's not a tree, though," Derek frowned, sliding his hands into his pockets. "It's a Christmas bush."

…

With the tree secured in the trunk of his car, Derek drove them to the mall for the next part of their mission.

"We need lights," he said.

Braeden pursed her lips. "Okay."

"And ornaments."

"Okay."

"And tinsel."

Braeden laughed. "You're going to have more decorations than tree."

"Who's fault is that?"

She laughed again, more freely this time. She placed her hand on his leg as he drove. From the corner of his eye, he saw the hint of a smile settle at the corner of her mouth.

At the store, they picked out lights and ornaments together. Wooden hearts, and plastic icicles, and glass snowflakes. Everything was white (because she couldn't find black) and green (which she allowed, because of Derek's eyes). If she could've found a tiny shotgun ornament to hang, she would've bought that, too.

"It's our tree," Derek had said. "We can put whatever want on it. Some for you, and some for me."

_And some for us, _she thought, running her hand along the perfect tree topper.

"I'm paying," she declared, shooting Derek a stern look. He raised his hand in surrender then nodded in the direction of the car.

"I'll be out there," he said. Then he kissed her forehead and took his time leaving.

Braeden had the cashier wrap the topper, thrice, in paper to keep him from sneaking a peak. At the last minute, she ran back to aisle two, made sure Derek was in the car, and picked up a little surprise for later, as well.

…

Before heading home, Derek stopped at a local ice rink.

"I don't really skate…" Braeden admitted, glancing at the ice with distrust. It was a make-shift rink, only inches thick, but it was large and being criss-crossed by even children more adept on the ice than she was.

"Great," Derek grinned at her. He grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the skating rental booth. "Then I can teach you something, for once."

He rented their skates, and insisted on lacing hers up.

"I _can _tie my laces," Braeden said to the top of Derek's head as he leaned before her, double-knotting the laces on her white figure skates. She stood before him, balancing one hand on his shoulder. He was as steady as a rock.

"I'm happy to help," Derek said, pushing the laces into her skate so they wouldn't unravel. Then he tied his own, and stood.

"Ready?" he asked her.

The world stopped for the space it took for Braeden to inhale. And with that breath of air, she took in Derek: his excited eyes, his eager smile, his extended hands, waiting for hers. The air was icy, but she was suddenly warm all over. And the way he looked at her, she felt like she was on fire.

"Ready," she said, giving him her hands.

With Derek's hand on hers, Braeden didn't fall. Not even when some teenagers weaved around them. Not even when a little boy began skating circles around them before getting bored. Not even when the ice pick on the toe of her skate dug into the ice.

"You're pretty good at this," Braeden said, trying to supress a wide smile as they carved the ice. "Is that a wolf thing?"

Derek laughed, "I don't think so. At least, it wasn't for my sister."

"Did you two-"

"Every year, I took her skating. She never let go of my hand."

Braeden nudged him lightly. "I can't say I blame her."

He pulled their linked hands up to his mouth in response, and lay a sweet kiss on her fingers. She cleared her throat and looked away, but he recognized the tension in her cheeks and the averting of her eyes. Her face was hot with a blush.

…

When she couldn't feel her toes anymore, Derek helped Braeden back into her leather boots, and they made their way to a little café across from the rink.

"This is pretty nice," Braeden admitted, watching kids and couples and teenagers go around and around in circles. She was cradling a giant mug of hot chocolate between both hands, and he was sipping on some eggnog. Between them sat a plate of half-eaten sugar cookies.

"Yeah," Derek said, watching her. "It is."

She took a long sip, dipping the mug low. She set it down and Derek immediately smirked and leaned forward.

"You have something," he said, moving his thumb towards her lips. But instead of brushing the milk off, he moved in swiftly and captured it in his lips. "Mmm," he said. "Delicious."

Her eyes were still closed, her lips still pursed, when he pulled away.

…

If Braeden thought she was safe when she got out of the car, hands filled with lights and ornaments, she was wrong. Before she even had a chance to consider the threat, a snowball had been planted right in the back of her head, nudging her reindeer hat forward over her eyes and soaking it.

"Derek." He might have been the wolf, but she had all the growl.

She set the items down, gently, near the car and was thanked with another snowball, right on her butt.

"Hey!" she yelled, turning to meet him, "You're going to pay for that!"

Derek laughed and ducked behind the car. There wasn't much snow on the ground – not enough for a snowman, so he had settled for the next best thing. She grabbed as much as she could and took off after him. He might have had superior hiding and stalking skills as a predator, but Braeden's aim was deadly.

Before long, she had him cornered with his hands in his pockets. When she was poised to make the final throw, a fistful of packed snow ready to be pitched at his cute face, Braeden paused.

"It's like you never know your lesson," Braeden said, observing her victim. He shivered, his teeth chattering. There was still snow in his hair. His face was wet, he was bouncing on his feet. She, on the other hand, had not been hit again.

"I let you win," Derek said.

"Uh-huh," Braeden said with a smirk. She lowered her hand, let the snow fall to the ground. Dusting it off her gloves, she moved towards him, leaned up, and lay a quick kiss on his lips.

Derek's left hand whipped out, grabbed her at the waist, and pulled her close for a slow, thorough kiss that had her knees weak and her mind wiped clear. His skin was cold, but his mouth was warm, and her knees went weak when his stubble grazed her cheek. She grabbed him by the collar to keep him close.

She almost didn't stop kissing him when he other hand came out, filled with snow, and smacked it right into the back of her jacket.

"Cheater." She said, against his mouth.

He grinned into their kiss. "It's not my fault these lips are your weakness."

She laughed, lowly, and he kissed her again.

…

So, the tree was a process.

Whereas Derek usually went _lights, ornaments_, Braeden laid everything out of their boxes, considered the best arrangement, and then went: _fairy lights, light-up ornaments, wooden ornaments, glass ornaments, icicles on ends, then tinsil – bottom to top, big ornaments to small. _Some she didn't even hang, because it would mess up her _tree to ornament_ ratio.

"I just don't want to have to spend hours fixing it," Braeden said. "Heavier stuff on the bottom – makes sense, right?"

"Right," Derek said, but he was grinning.

Braeden's lips quirked, but she didn't respond. Instead, she turned to the tree and ignored him. As they worked, Derek put on some Christmas music. Before she knew it, Braeden was humming along, swaying a bit to the music.

When she got the last ornament on, Derek came up from behind her, slipped a glass of wine between her fingers and wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her nape as she took a sip.

"Looks pretty good, if I do say so myself," Braeden said, her hand landing on Derek's wrapped around hers. She was a tall girl, and had always been pretty tough. But when she was locked in his embrace, she felt like she was engulfed in softness, and tenderness, and all the things Christmas had come to remind her she was missing – growing up, and as a grown up.

He kissed her nape. "Yeah, you do."

She laughed. "Stop it."

They stood there, for two whole songs, swaying a bit, sharing the glass of wine, his lips on her neck, her nails drawing lazy lines across his arms. _I love you, _she spelled gently into his skin, over and over and over again.

"Oh," Braeden said, starting. "The tree topper. She pried herself out of Derek's arms to his grunting protest. She slipped the wine glass in his hand, then emptied the bags until she found it. Walking back to the tree, she kept it hidden until the last second, when she placed it, finally on top of the tree.

It was a full moon. With a silhouette of Santa, and his sleigh, and his reindeers going across.

"It's a… moon…" Derek said, tilting his head. "So, not a traditional topper."

"No," Braeden said, stepping back. She reached behind her for Derek's hands, her eyes on the tree. Their fingers linked easily together, and she leaned against his shoulder. "Took forever to find it. I'm not really religious, but, I do like the moon." She glanced up at him. "It kind of brought us together. You know, wolves and all that."

"I get it," Derek said, a soft smile on his face. He turned to press a kiss to her forehead. "I love it."

Braeden closed her eyes and smiled.

"There's actually… one more decoration for the place," Derek said into her skin. She felt his wicked grin against her forehead. He reached into his back pocket and extracted the decoration. Then he lifted it up slowly between their faces, and above their heads.

"Mistletoe," Braeden said, like an accusation.

Derek closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Braeden laughed low against his mouth. Then she leaned forward, too, and placed her soft lips on his.

"I have one more surprise for you," Braeden breathed into Derek's kiss.

"Mmhmm," he said, noncommittally. He had her face cradled between his hands. His thumbs were stroking her cheeks. He nipped at her lips again, and she laughed.

"It's in the bedroom."

Derek stilled. "Well, okay then."

…

When he walked into the bedroom, Derek couldn't believe his eyes. Because there, sitting on his bed, between his pillows, was a round, jolly Santa Claus doll.

"I would've gone for the one at the mall," Braeden said.

"The… guy playing Santa for the kids?"

"Yeah, but I thought that would be overkill," Braeden teased. She put two fingers under Derek's jaw and closed his mouth.

"Oh, yeah," Derek nodded. He grinned at her. "Definitely made the right choice."

"I believe you owe me a million kisses."

"One debt I am happy," Derek said, scooping her up into his arms. He marched them towards the bed, kicked Santa off, and dropped her onto the bouncy mattress, "to pay."

"Might take you a while," Braeden warned, as he crawled over her and began laying them over her scar.

_Yup, _he thought: _Maybe even the rest of my life_.


End file.
